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User blog:Squibstress/A Slant-Told Tale - Chapter 5
Title: A Slant-Told Tale Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual content; violence; abuse; alcoholism Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Five 17 July 1944 “Well, Miss McGonagall—I mean Madam Macnair—did you manage to resist the attractions of Paris, or wherever it was you went, long enough get through the books I gave you?” “Yes, Madam Marchbanks. And just ‘Minerva’ will be fine, if you please.” Griselda gave her new apprentice a brisk nod. She thought she’d probably be inviting the child to call her by her given name eventually, but for the moment, it wouldn’t do to get too familiar. Not until she knew the McGonagall girl was going to stick it out. Macnair. She’s Macnair now, Zel. Best not to forget that. “Good. As I’m sure you know, I expect you to complete every assignment I give you, on time, no questions. Understood?” “Yes, Madam Marchbanks.” “So, ‘just Minerva’, you have an impressive record in school, and I’m here to tell you your N.E.W.T. results were as good as any I’ve seen, but from this point on, you know nothing. Got it?” “Yes, I think so.” Griselda narrowed her eyes at Minerva. “You ‘think so’?” “No, Madam Marchbanks. I know that I know nothing.” “Right. That’s what I’m here for: to remedy the situation. You are here to learn what I teach, and to help me with my research once I’ve decided you’ve the brains to do it properly.” Griselda didn’t fail to notice the gleam in Minerva’s eye at that last. “That appeals to you, does it? Helping me?” Griselda asked. “Yes, Madam Marchbanks. It would be an honour.” “You bet your arse it would.” She watched Minerva carefully for any sign the girl was bothered by her language, and saw none. Good. Pure-blood or not, Minerva McGonagall isn’t a delicate flower. Macnair. Damn. The two witches were nearly finished going over timetables and other details of the apprenticeship when Griselda noticed that the girl was perspiring heavily. “Well, what is it?” she asked Minerva. “I’m sorry?” “You look like you’re about to pass out.” “Oh, no … I just—” Minerva suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth, rose, and dashed out of the room. Merlin’s balls. When Minerva returned, red-faced, to the lab, Griselda had a tall glass of water waiting for her. “Here. Drink this.” Minerva followed instructions, and Griselda took the empty glass from her, Banishing it back to the dirty kitchen whence it had come. “Better now?” Griselda asked. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry. I think my breakfast disagreed with me.” Griselda just gave a grunt “Now we’ve covered the basics, you can tell me: Is there any field within Transfiguration that especially interests you? I do like to make sure my apprentices get to study the things they find most intriguing. They give the best results that way, I find.” “Well, I have given some thought to Animagus transformation,” Minerva said. Not too ambitious now, are we, Madam Macnair? “It’s a fascinating field,” Griselda said.” And one of the most difficult to master.” Minerva’s eyes darted around a bit, then she said, “Is it something you believe I might be suited for?” “You might at that. And I’ve taught one or two who went on to become full Animagi. But I think we’d best table that until after your baby is born.” Good. Let’s get all our cards on the table straight off. “I … excuse me?” said a paler Minerva. Griselda gave a gruff chuckle. “Come now, my girl. I may be a wizened old dyke, but I think I can put two and two together as well as any school matron.” Let’s see what she does with that. Minerva’s eyes dropped to her lap. “I’m sorry, Madam Marchbanks.” She sounded miserable. “Come now, Minerva, it’s nothing to be upset about. Don’t think I didn’t think of this when I agreed to take you on despite your marriage. And don’t tell me you didn’t think of it, either.” “No. I just … this apprenticeship means the world to me, Madam Marchbanks.” said Minerva. “I promise I won’t let this”—she gestured in the direction of her belly—”get in the way of my work.” The girl was obviously distressed. Griselda felt her heart soften and took herself in hand to stop it. “I know you won’t. I won’t let you.” 5 January 1945 Griselda glanced over to where her apprentice was working at the microscope. Minerva was so still that Griselda witch wondered for a few moments if the girl had gone to sleep. It had happened to Griselda more than once, and there was no question that Minerva looked exhausted of late. But no; the black head looked up from the ’scope to jot something in a notebook, then bent down again. Griselda had to admit that the child—young woman, she corrected herself—was turning out to be an excellent apprentice, pregnant or not. Work always complete and well done, never a complaint, even at the most odious of tasks, eager to learn and to talk about what she was learning, but never one to make small talk … Minerva Macnair had become a fine lab companion, there was no denying it. And despite her best intentions, Griselda had grown fond of her apprentice. Minerva never talked about her home life or her marriage, but Griselda had been able to fill in the blanks herself well enough. She’d seen the story play out with several of her Slytherin friends from school—girls who were from pure-blood families and were expected to marry well. Sometimes it worked out well, and other times … well … Griselda was happy for more than one reason that her family name wasn’t so grand nor their Gringotts vault so full that anyone cared one way or t’other about her marrying. She had known from an early age that she would be making her own way in the world, and a lucky thing it was that it suited her just fine. And a lucky thing it had turned out to be too, that she had had no money to speak of after leaving Hogwarts. Otherwise, she would have gone straight into her apprenticeship and would never have had to hire herself out as a copyist and research assistant, an omission that would have changed the course of her life, and not for the better. There wasn’t a worse curse for a girl, thought Griselda as she looked at her apprentice, than to have a grand name and only a little money. A girl with a name and no husband on the horizon might find work as a nanny or governess for another pure-blood family, but beyond that, pickings were slim for respectable employment. Folks just didn’t seem to trust a pure-blood who didn’t marry. Far easier to be of a less lofty pedigree, like Griselda. People didn’t wonder why no one wanted a girl with no money and no name, especially if she wasn’t pretty, which Griselda wasn’t. Of course, Bathilda hadn’t seemed to care much about Griselda’s background or her lack of comeliness, but the Bathilda Bagshots of the world were few and far between in Griselda’s experience, and more’s the pity, in her opinion. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Minerva stand, stretch, then put a hand to the small of her back. Over the months, Minerva had grown from a skinny twig of a girl into a skinny twig of a girl with an enormous belly in front of her. That, thought Griselda, had to be hard on the lumbar region. When she heard the girl try to stifle a yawn, it was decided. “Minerva.” “Yes, Madam Marchbanks?” “I’m beat all to hell. What say we knock off a little early, have a cuppa upstairs?” She could see that Minerva was taken aback. Griselda had never invited her into the house proper before. High time, Zel. “Come on,” Griselda urged. “It’ll do you some good, too. You look ready to drop.” “All right. Thank you, Madam Marchbanks.” “And I think you may call me ‘Griselda’ at this point, Minerva.” Minerva looked startled. “Thank you, Griselda.” “Come on, then. You think you can manage to haul that load up the stairs, or do I need to Levitate you?” Minerva gave a small smile and said, “No, thank you. I can manage. Getting me to fit through the door may be a problem, though.” “Was that humour? From my serious apprentice? Whatever is the world coming to?” said Griselda, clapping a hand on Minerva’s shoulder. “If we’re lucky, Bathilda’s already arrived and organised some biscuits.” When the two witches arrived in the main house, they could hear bustling activity from the kitchen. “You just sit down before you drop,” Griselda admonished Minerva, who promptly followed instructions. Griselda went to the kitchen door and called through, “Bathilda? I’ve brought Minerva up to join us for some tea. Warm an extra cup, would you?” A few minutes later, Bathilda came bustling out of the kitchen, bearing the tea service. “Well, you’re off early today,” she said, putting the tea down and bussing Griselda on the cheek. “Mmm. Thought Minerva looked like she could use a break.” Bathilda took the seat between the other two women. “Yes, you do look a bit peaky, dear,” she said to Minerva, pouring out three cups of tea and putting a lump of sugar in one and two lumps and a dollop of milk in the other, then handing the first to Griselda. Griselda smiled at her companion. How typical of Bathilda to start in mothering the girl before they had even been introduced. Where are your manners, Zel? “Minerva Macnair, meet Bathilda Bagshot.” Minerva looked dumbfounded for a moment, then she recovered her wits and her own manners simultaneously. When she started to stand—a procedure that was easier said than done, apparently—Griselda waved her down again. “Oh, we don’t stand on ceremony here, Minerva, as you’ll see if you take tea with us often enough.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bagshot,” said Minerva. “I very much enjoyed your book on the Goblin rebellions, and of course, the one on the Inquisition and the wizarding world.” “Thank you, my dear. Are you much interested in history?” Bathilda enquired. “Oh, yes. Both Muggle and wizarding history are fascinating.” “Hmpf. I’m surprised you still feel that way after seven years of Binns boring you all to death,” remarked Griselda. “Come now, Zel,” remonstrated Bathilda, “Cuthbert isn’t that bad.” “You only say that because he’s contracted to use your next edition as his textbook,” said Griselda. “Just shows the man has good taste,” said Bathilda. “No, Bathilda, he has no taste. He’s a bloody ghost. The students would get much more out of the class with a good teacher to go with the good text. If only you would consider teaching …” “You, my dearest, are biased,” said Bathilda. “I would be a disaster as a teacher, and well you know it.” “At least you’re corporeal. And that’s enough about that,” Griselda said, cutting off any argument. She was watching to see how Minerva would react to meeting Bathilda. Griselda wasn’t interested in hiding her relationship with the older witch, and she had never been especially circumspect about the fact that she liked witches, but she had thought it best up to now not to rub Minerva’s face in it, either. She was a pure-blood, and goodness knows they had some strange notions about what was and wasn’t acceptable in polite society. Not that we qualify as ‘polite society’, thank Merlin. Griselda gave an inward chuckle. Minerva was shocked at meeting Bathilda, all right. But her shock was obviously at meeting the great historian rather than the fact that the old witch was clearly right at home in Griselda’s house. The three women chatted about history, education, and Transfiguration for more than an hour before Griselda said, “Well, ladies, this has been grand, but I, at least, have work to do and it’s going on six o’clock.” She saw Minerva blanch, and when the young woman struggled to stand, Griselda gave her an arm to help her up. “Thank you, Mad— Griselda, Madam Bagshot—” “Please, I’m Bathilda.” “Thank you, Bathilda. I hate to rush off like this, but I’m expected at home.” “Of course, dear,” said Bathilda. “It was a great pleasure to meet you at last. Zel has told me she expects great things of you.” Griselda slapped her lover’s arm in mock annoyance. “Don’t be telling her that; we don’t want her head swelling as big as her belly.” Minerva gave a slight smile, saying, “The pleasure was mine, Bathilda.” Turning to her teacher, she said, “Griselda, would you mind letting me back into the lab? I’ll need to use the Floo to get home.” “Ah, of course; I had forgotten.” Of course Minerva couldn’t Apparate in her condition, so they had had a Floo connection set up between Griselda’s lab and the Macnair home. When Griselda returned from seeing Minerva safely off, Bathilda was clearing up the tea things. “Remarkable young woman,” said Bathilda as she carried the tray into the small kitchen. “I was surprised you finally brought her up here, though.” “It was time.” “You introduced me to some of the others sooner.” “Yes, but frankly, I wasn’t sure at first she would stick it out with me, especially under the circumstances. But she’s bloody-minded enough, that’s clear now.” The two women worked side by side washing and drying the things in the Muggle way for a few moments before Bathilda spoke again. “Have you ever met her family?” “Gods, no. Wouldn’t care to, either.” “Macnairs?” “She was born a McGonagall, but she just married one of the Macnairs last year.” “Shame. I wonder how a girl like that got mixed up with the likes of them.” “Oh, it’s not hard to imagine,” said Griselda. “The McGonagalls are, from what I hear, almost destitute after that last slide on the Magical Exchange. The Macnairs must’ve made a good offer for Minerva.” Bathilda gave a grimace and shook her head. “It’s high time high society stopped treating girls as financial assets rather than human beings.” “Lucky some of us weren’t such an asset,” said Griselda, prompting an affectionate smile from Bathilda. “What is she going to do after the baby comes?” Bathilda enquired. “She’s said she intends to take a month to recover from the birth and then come right back to work.” “Hmm. She may find that harder than she imagines.” “Could be,” was all Griselda would commit to saying. She knew little of babies and their needs, but she thought that if anyone could manage an apprenticeship with a newborn babe, it would be Minerva McGonagall. Macnair. Damn. ← Back to Chapter 4 On to Chapter 6 → Chapters of Slant-Told Tale, A